They Want Blood
By RayDanger
They Want Blood. Each and Every time I step onto that stage. It doesn't matter anymore that they think I'm good. It doesn't matter that they like my songs or how I kill with this guitar. They want blood and they want more of it.
I Suppose It's my own fault. I blew them away. They became addicted to me. And just when they became comfortable and thought they me figured out, I came at them again, relentlessly, from all angles. I take no prisoners and leave no one behind. I was too much of an adrenaline rush for them. The government should have declared me illegal.
But now the tables have turned. No - They've cap-sized, spilling what I once held sacred and holy, spilling onto the floor to be trampled and swept away with the dirt and mud of unworthy shoes. My muse, scattered ashes of wind blown clouds, dusting the air unworthy to breathe.
I Can't give them want they want. But they want more. Something new. Something better. Something astounding. After all, I am their god. As if I should show them pity and give them my blood so they can forget their pathetic lives and dull their senses to the pain and agony we call existence. I am not a god and I have no blood to give. I sold my soul to rock n roll a long time ago and it robbed me blind. No blood. No nothing.
They want blood? They got it. I'll give it to them and they'll wish they never asked. What will you do when your heroes are all dead? I'll sacrifice my life for them in front of their very own eyes. The ultimate gift and the ultimate price. They want blood? They got it.
Time to hit the stage. Curtains up. Let's go.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Welcome to my suicide!"
And the crowd goes wild.
By RayDanger
They Want Blood. Each and Every time I step onto that stage. It doesn't matter anymore that they think I'm good. It doesn't matter that they like my songs or how I kill with this guitar. They want blood and they want more of it.
I Suppose It's my own fault. I blew them away. They became addicted to me. And just when they became comfortable and thought they me figured out, I came at them again, relentlessly, from all angles. I take no prisoners and leave no one behind. I was too much of an adrenaline rush for them. The government should have declared me illegal.
But now the tables have turned. No - They've cap-sized, spilling what I once held sacred and holy, spilling onto the floor to be trampled and swept away with the dirt and mud of unworthy shoes. My muse, scattered ashes of wind blown clouds, dusting the air unworthy to breathe.
I Can't give them want they want. But they want more. Something new. Something better. Something astounding. After all, I am their god. As if I should show them pity and give them my blood so they can forget their pathetic lives and dull their senses to the pain and agony we call existence. I am not a god and I have no blood to give. I sold my soul to rock n roll a long time ago and it robbed me blind. No blood. No nothing.
They want blood? They got it. I'll give it to them and they'll wish they never asked. What will you do when your heroes are all dead? I'll sacrifice my life for them in front of their very own eyes. The ultimate gift and the ultimate price. They want blood? They got it.
Time to hit the stage. Curtains up. Let's go.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Welcome to my suicide!"
And the crowd goes wild.